Medic!

Medic!

The past few days have been spent in a large building trying to inflict harm on each other. Well actually, we were supposed to be learning Combat Lifesaver Skills (CLS), which is the direct opposite of inflicting harm on one another but that’s beside the point. The CLS class was conducted by Army medics and they gave us three full days of class work, practical exercises and tests. The training is very useful and it’s always good to have a few CLS folks around when you happen to be in a war zone, especially when we don’t get issued our very own medic and they haven’t developed enough body armor to prevent every injury that could happen when people try to blow you up. The CLS’s job is to just stabilize the injured until real help is sent, or the patient is picked up by a helicopter or ambulance. The closest civilian comparison is EMT training, although EMTs are taught to deal with a much larger variety of situations than a CLS.

Stop bleeding:

The body has about 6 quarts of blood in it which is roughly a gallon and a half. You need this stuff to bring oxygen to the brain and organs. Ask anyone who has given a pint of blood at the local donation center (note: go give blood!) and they’ll tell you that you can get a little weak in the knees afterwards. Wounds greater than a paper cut can make the body lose a lot of blood, so we need to know how to stop it by using things like tourniquets and pressure dressings.

MSG Tim getting his noggin bandaged up

Fix a Tension Pneumorthorax:

Fix a what? Yeah, that’s what I said. Without getting too technical, it means sticking a needle in the patient’s chest to relieve tension brought on by the chest cavity being compromised and the lungs getting squashed under the pressure. (hint: go rent “Three Kings” with George Clooney and Marky Mark to get a better visual of this).

One of the dummies we use to practice technique on

Clear the airway:

Basically, this is sticking a tube up a person’s nose to open the airway. That’s right. We’re soldiers here and there will be no French kissing CPR moves on the battlefield. Instead, we’re going to lube up a tube and ram up your nose until it reaches your throat. Makes you think twice for volunteering for a demonstration in a CLS class like this unfortunate soul did.

You picked a bad day to volunteer to be a demonstrator

Evacuate a casualty:

People are heavy. People with 50 to 60 lbs of gear on are even heavier. I remember trying to drag my passed out brother from my truck to the house and it was a lot of dead weight to manage, and I can’t imagine what it would be like to move a person of that size under fire. We learned how to use some makeshift stretchers and such to transport the wounded, and we didn’t even drop anyone.

CPT Brendan laying down on the job

Sled rides for everyone!

Insert and IV:

The IV part involved the most pain as we didn’t practice on a mannequin or a dummy (some might argue the latter), but instead we stuck one another. Not a lot of fun, but since you partnered up with the person who sticks you, you have the chance to repay the favor when you stick them. Thanks to the folks at Carter Blood Care, I'm pretty comfortable around needles (thanks Ginny!) but the IV day made me appreciate the staff at the blood place much MUCH more.

CPT Kevin feeling woozy

CPT Brendan fishing for a vein

Here is the victim I successfully stuck (notice he's still alive and smiling)

Here is a pic of my arm (what you won't notice is that I'm NOT smiling)

Take a Test:

We took a 40 question exam to test if we were awake for our classes. Not real hard, but you couldn’t have fallen asleep in classes and do well.

Practical Exercise:

We had two scenarios where we had to treat and evacuate casualties from a building which was hit by simulated mortar and conduct a patrol in order to practice evacuating our own casualties. I didn’t get a lot of pictures of these as we were on the move a lot and I didn’t get the chance to bring out the camera.

Overall, I’m pretty confident in my ability to do CLS on the battlefield. Its another skill I’ve learned these past two months that I hope I’ll never have to actually perform. It’s all part of that “hope for the best, prepare for the worse” that I’ve been harping about for all this time. So, be sure to pack some hope in that next care package you put together... or pack pizza, because pizza fixes everything.